


Merrier the More

by MissNaya



Category: DCU
Genre: Established Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Fingerfucking, M/M, Prostate Massage, Prostate Orgasm Training, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26878207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissNaya/pseuds/MissNaya
Summary: Jason and Dick have a problem: Jason wants to teach Dick to come through prostate stimulation alone, but nothing they try seems to work.Seems like it's time to bring in a third party.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Jason Todd/Slade Wilson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 251





	Merrier the More

**Author's Note:**

  * For [squeek93](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squeek93/gifts).



> is this the second time I've used Britney Spears's 3 as a title for a Slade/Jason/Dick fic? perhaps. will I stop? no. shut up. leave me alone to my pop music.
> 
> written for squeek93! thanks for the lovely prompt!

“When you said you had someone in mind to help us out with this,” Dick says, “you didn’t say _this_ is who you meant.”

“Hello to you too, kid.”

Slade is annoyingly sexy when he smirks like that. And Dick’s practically glowing, as usual, even with his eyes narrowed in suspicion. He’s almost pouting, in a t-shirt and jeans so tight that they show off every curve of his unfairly gorgeous body.

God, Jason is fucking horny right now.

He’s sure anyone would be in his position; somehow managing to fuck _Dick Grayson,_ not once, but multiple times. As in, Dick can somehow stand his company long enough to sleep with him multiple times.

Multiple, multiple times.

He’s getting distracted again. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to ask Slade “Silver Fox” Wilson to help them out here, but Jason is desperate. He and Dick have had this problem for months now, and Slade’s the only one he can think of with the… _required skills_ to help them out.

It takes Jason a second to realize they’re both looking at him now, as the organizer of this little meet-cute. In his usual red hoodie and torn jeans, he feels underdressed, even though Slade and Dick are hardly dressed better than him. They just wear it better, he thinks, unafraid to throw on something tight enough to leave very little to the imagination.

So maybe his use of a hoodie is a little defensive, a little strategic. It’s supposed to keep them from looking at him too much, but, well, here they are. He should probably say something.

“Um.” He lifts his fingers and wiggles them. “Surprise?”

Nailed it.

Dick exhales and rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “I cannot _believe_ you told _him_ about us.”

“Sweetheart, you say that like I’m a bad memory,” Slade says, his one eye narrowed in mocking amusement.

Dick’s face immediately flushes. Jason’s does, too. Without thinking, he shoulders his way between the two of them, back to Dick. He doesn’t want to call it protective, but, well, when the shoe fits.

“Listen,” he says, looking at Slade, but speaking to both of them. “We’ve all fucked around before. Maybe not _together,_ but it’s better than bringing in a total stranger, right…?”

“Yeah,” Dick says, “but _Deathstroke?_ ”

“Listen, princess, if you want me to go, I’ll go,” Slade says, thumbing toward the door. “But this is a one-time offer. A friendly ceasefire to help you two with your little _problem._ ”

Dick makes a tiny indignant noise, and Jason can tell even without turning his head that he’s probably about as red as his hoodie right now. After all, it’s his “problem” that’s the reason they’re all in the same room right now.

It should be relatively simple. At least, all the guides Jason read on the internet made it seem that way. Getting a guy to cum without touching his cock _sounds_ hard, but it’s really just a matter of prostate stimulation, isn’t it?

You’d think. But no matter how often they try, no matter how many toys or how many sessions they have, Jason just can’t fucking get Dick to come untouched. Hell, they’ve gone for _hours_ before, until Jason’s wrist felt like it was about to fall off, until both of them were drenched in sweat and sometimes even tears. Still nothing.

That’s why Jason had to bring in the big guns.

Deathstroke is about as big a gun as you’ll get. Maybe _too_ big for the problem, now that he’s thinking about it. Like trying to kill an ant with an AK-47.

Fuck, what has he gotten them into this time?

“I do not have a _problem,_ ” Dick insists, carefully pronouncing each word.

“Oh,” Slade says, “so you and your boyfriend here don’t have trouble getting you to shoot off with something shoved up that pretty ass of yours?”

The noise Dick makes this time is drowned out by the one Jason makes, an aborted half-word that ends up sounding more like a startled donkey than anything.

It’s not flattering, is what he’s trying to say.

Slade just booms out a laugh so loud and bassy that it almost seems to shake the apartment floor. It has no right to sound as sexy as it does.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d peg you two as virgins,” he says, that single blue eye shining with mischief. “Is this really what happens when two goody-goodies get together, you go soft?”

“We’re not _together,_ ” Jason says, at the same time Dick insists, “I’m not _soft._ ”

They both look at each other then, and for a second, there seems to be something behind Dick’s eyes that make it look like he’s got something else to say. If he does, though, he tamps it down, pressing his lips into a thin line.

Ah, fuck. Jason hopes he didn’t just fuck something up.

But it’s too late for that. They’ve got a cocky, horny Slade Wilson on their hands, and something tells Jason it won’t be that easy to get rid of him. Besides, he… kind of doesn’t _want_ to get rid of him. He asked him here for a reason, and he still intends to go through with it.

That is, if Dick’s game.

“Sure, sure,” Slade says, and then, like he can read Jason’s mind, “So. Am I in or out? Your move, Grayson.”

Both of them turn to look at Dick, who, for once, doesn’t seem thrilled about all the attention. He huffs, arms crossed over that sculpted chest of his. Blows a strand of hair out of his face and taps his foot, looking for all the world like a put-upon mother trying to be the voice of reason in a family of all rowdy boys.

_Okay, Todd, maybe time to cool it on the weird metaphors._

After what feels like an eternity, Dick sighs. “Where are we doing this?”

The bed is big enough for all three of them in this safe house. That’s one reason Jason chose it. The other reason is that the apartment complex is otherwise abandoned, meaning no one around to hear them or, god forbid, walk in on them. That’s the last thing they all need.

Dick, Jason’s learned, is the kind of bottom who needs a certain amount of concentration in order to… perform. He’s got a mind that races in a hundred different directions at once, which isn’t unusual for someone raised by the Batman, but is rather counter-productive when it comes time to relax and let loose.

Try to fuck him in a cheap studio surrounded by deadbeats? Lose him when he jumps out of bed to go break up a DV dispute. Fuck him in the middle of the city, neon lights pouring in through the window? Lose him out that window when he somehow hears a mugging taking place 10 stories below. Fuck him somewhere without any whisper of another human being anywhere nearby? Better make sure he doesn’t think too hard about his current cases, or else he’ll be leaping up off your cock with an “I’ve got it!” that just fucking ruins your orgasm even though you were _so close_ and _god Dick can’t you just have fucking fun for once—_

So, uh. Needless to say, Jason has laid out a few ground rules with Slade that they went over before Dick was in the picture. “Don’t fucking talk about work” being the first and foremost rule, followed by several others, like “Don’t hurt him,” and “Seriously, if you do anything to hurt him, I will blow your cock off with my Desert Eagle.”

Jason remembers what Slade told him after he finished laying out all his demands, with that same cocky little smirk on his face then that he’s wearing now.

 _“You worry too much, Hood,”_ he’d said. _“Don’t worry… I won’t touch a hair on his pretty little head.”_

At the time, he’d taken it to mean something different. It’s only now that Jason realizes he may have fucked up, just a little bit.

“Wait,” he says, standing by the edge of the bed that Slade’s lying down on, sprawled out like he owns it. “Why do _I_ have to get naked? I thought this was—”

“My lesson,” Slade says, “my rules. Take it off, birdie.”

When Jason looks over at Dick, he catches him smirking, shirt already off. He frowns. “What’s that look for?”

“You didn’t seriously think you’d be wearing that the whole time, did you, Little Wing? I mean…” Dick bends down to peel off his jeans. Jason is so distracted staring at the curve of his ass under his tight boxers that he doesn’t catch those jeans when Dick sends them flying at his face. “...this _is_ date night.”

Jason’s face is the red one this time, as he grabs the jeans and unwinds them from around his head. He lets them fall, then fiddles with the hem of his hoodie before pulling it off.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Sorry, I forgot to put on my pretty pants,” he grumbles, quickly ridding himself of his too-comfy Poison Idea shirt and leaving himself bare-chested. “Didn’t realize we’d be putting on a show.”

Slade — who is still fully-clothed, mind you — just watches them disrobe from his place on the king-sized mattress. He looks smug as shit, like the fucking king of the castle as his eye rakes up and down their bodies.

Jason almost wants to punch him for it. Why the fuck did he think this would be a good idea? The mere thought of Slade putting his hands on Dick is turning his stomach. Not necessarily in a completely bad way — attractive man plus attractive man equals VERY attractive men, both in Jason’s bed, which he can’t complain too much about — but in a way that makes something possessive coil up in his gut in a way he tries to keep tempered.

It doesn’t do to get jealous over Dick Grayson. It’s like trying to get jealous of the wind for blowing on someone else’s face; you can’t contain a force of nature, and Jason has no interest in trying.

He just, y’know. Wishes that sometimes he could keep the wind in a bottle. Just for a little while.

He’s interrupted from his thoughts when a pair of balled-up boxers smacks him in the face. “Really, Dick?!”

Dick just laughs and launches himself back on the bed, forceful enough that even Slade bounces a bit as the mattress ripples. He’s completely naked now, and Jason’s eyes lock on his half-hard cock.

“You’re slow tonight, Jason!” Dick taunts. “This was your idea. C’mon, I wanna see if the old man’s as good as advertised.”

“You sure warmed up to the idea fast,” Jason mumbles, thumbing down his jeans. He slides his underwear off at the same time so Slade won’t see that he wears briefs. It leaves him bare, and now he can’t pretend anymore that this whole thing hasn’t had him hard from the start.

“Complaining is your thing,” Dick says. “Going with the flow is mine.”

Jason bristles. “Since when is complaining my ‘thing?’”

“What?” Dick’s grinning, showing off all his annoyingly perfect movie star teeth. “Gonna complain about it?”

Jason opens his mouth, closes it, purses his lips, and then kicks his pants off his leg in the vague direction of Dick’s head. Dick ducks just in time, meaning Slade’s the one to grab them right before they hit him in the face.

And, of course, the first thing Slade does with those discarded pants is to fish Jason’s underwear out of them and hold them up.

“Briefs? How old are you, kid?”

Jason wants to die again.

Blessedly, Dick snatches the briefs up and tosses them back to Jason. His grin somehow manages to look playful and predatory all at the same time. “C’mon, Little Wing. You look like you need to relax.”

Jason grumbles wordlessly as Dick catches him around the shoulders and tugs him back onto the bed. His teeth find the shell of Jason’s ear, nibbling the skin just the way he likes, the way that makes him shudder and twitch and okay, how the hell did he end up as the overwhelmed one, here?

It’s not fair. This is supposed to be about _Dick’s_ problem, _Dick’s_ body. Jason wasn’t supposed to end up feeling like the woman on the _Jaws_ poster. And yet he does, trapped between Dick and Slade as he sits up, shivering as Dick’s arms wrapped around him keep his own pinned down by his sides.

“Mmn, Little Wing,” Dick murmurs into his neck, pressing hot kisses to the skin there. It’s really fucking unfair. No one man should sound that sexy, let alone be able to use his mouth like that.

“ _Little Wing,_ ” Slade repeats, mocking. He reaches forward, tipping Jason’s chin up with one large finger. “Lay down.”

“H-huh?”

Before Jason can ask any further questions, Slade turns his hand and slides his thumb past Jason’s parted lips. He presses down against his bottom teeth, his tongue, forcing his mouth open as Dick continues to torturously kiss up and down his neck. Dick’s got his legs folded on either side of Jason’s body, making it easy to feel the hard swell of his cock against the small of his back.

It’s fucking intoxicating. Jason feels like jelly as the two of them slowly lower him down onto his side.

Slade only lets up on his mouth once he’s down. “Atta boy. On your back, now. Hips up.”

Jason blinks. “I… _What?_ ”

“Y’see, the thing is,” Dick starts, in that way that tells you something’s up before you even finish hearing what the person has to say. “When you went to the bathroom back there? Slade and I had a little talk.”

Jason pales a little.

“Give a man a fish, you feed him for a day,” Slade says, like the cryptic fucking dad he is. “Teach a man to fish…”

“Oh my god, will you both stop it? I’m going to die again, and it’ll be your fault this time for turning my head in fucking circles. Can’t either of you just say what you—”

“I’m going to fingerfuck you until you come,” Slade says.

Well.

That’s that, then.

Jason opens and closes his mouth, but no words come out. Blessedly, Dick can talk enough to fill a banquet hall, let alone a bedroom.

“Slade says you have to know what it feels like in order to know how to do it right,” Dick says. “I asked him how _he_ knows, then, but—”

Slade smacks Dick across the back of the head, just enough to jostle him.

“—he did that.” Dick shrugs, doesn’t look put off by it. He’s grinning, actually, like he has been this entire time. Jason should’ve known something was up the second he got back and saw that _smile._ “Anyway, hold up your hips, Jay. He says using a pillow makes it easier to—”

“Oh, my god.” Jason’s head lolls on the pillow that isn’t currently being jammed up under his ass, trying to figure out if this is real or if he’s still asleep. “You cannot be fucking serious.”

It was supposed to be Dick’s ass getting ravaged tonight.

_It was supposed to be Dick’s._

Slade, the bastard, is finally stripping himself of that shirt of his. It’s not like it left any of his five thousand fucking muscles to the imagination, but it is nice to see him a little less dressed than usual. The white hair that curls over his pecs and trails down past his navel looks soft; Jason has the urge to reach out and card his hand through it, but he resists.

When a bare hand grabs his thigh, he jumps. That makes Dick jump in turn.

“Jesus, babe! You okay?”

Jason doesn’t answer, primarily because he’s trying to process the fact that Dick just called him “babe.” He’s also trying to keep track of that large hand on his thigh, not one of Dick’s, slowly creeping up closer to where his cock juts out, hard and heavy.

“Babe? We can stop if you— Slade, cut it out!” Dick smacks at Slade’s arm, and when Slade smirks down at him, Jason’s cock fucking _throbs._

“No,” he finally manages to gasp out. Why does it feel like he’s trying to breathe through lava? “No, no. Don’t— Don’t stop.”

Jason watches Dick suck in a breath through his teeth. He sees his pink tongue dart out to wet his perfect lips. He catches the darkening of his eyes, pupils blown wide, as his expression shifts from playful to something _else._ Something Jason loves to see on him, that rare bit of animalistic hunger that Dick shows off when they’re alone in bed together, or sometimes, if he’s lucky, through his domino mask, teasing him on a rooftop somewhere.

He groans and lets his legs fall open wider, just in time for Slade’s fingers to drag at the skin around his hole.

“Now,” Slade says, “the first thing you have to do is make sure he’s comfortable. So, kid? How are you?” He squeezes a handful of Jason’s ass. “Comfortable yet?”

Jason narrows his eyes and scoffs. “We know _that_ much. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a total meathead, _Slade_.”

Slade pulls his hand back just long enough to spank Jason’s asscheek. It doesn’t hurt bad, but it leaves him pink, and it stings enough for him to let out an embarrassing yelp.

“Did we or did we not agree that this is _my_ class?” Slade says.

Jason grumbles.

“What was that?” Slade’s hand wraps around the base of Jason’s cock, squeezing nice and tight. “I can’t hear you.”

“I said, if this is your idea of making someone _comfortable,_ no wonder what we’ve been doing hasn’t worked yet,” Jason says, even though that’s absolutely not what he said. He lifts a foot and presses it against Slade’s chest, which feels like the sturdy end of a brick barn.

“For fuck’s sake,” Slade says, rolling his eye. “Will you kiss him or something? Just shut him up for a while.”

Dick shoots a little glare over at Slade, but that brief animosity is gone when he looks down at Jason. When he looks at Jason, he’s all softness, all smiles. He grows in Jason’s vision until their lips touch, and almost immediately, the tension sags out of Jason’s shoulders.

Kissing Dick Grayson is an experience that never gets any less overwhelming no matter how many times he does it. Every time feels like the first time. Granted, Jason tries his hardest not to let Dick catch on that that’s the case, but it seems like, right now, there’s no way Dick can’t tell the effect he has on Jason. It’s visible, the way he eases up when their mouths move against each other. You don’t have to be a superhero or master assassin to clue into this mystery. Newsflash: Jason Todd is touch-starved, more at 11.

So into the kiss, Jason doesn’t even realize Slade’s finger is inside him until he gets to the second knuckle. He makes a noise against Dick’s lips, but Dick just swallows it up and presses his head back into the soft pillow.

Speaking of pillows… The one under his waist _does_ take some of the pressure off, and Slade’s finger seems to go in much easier because of it. The generous amount of lube he can feel slicking his ass and the sheets probably isn’t hurting the situation, either. Slade’s finger is _wet,_ and stays slippery even when he pulls his finger back, twists it, and sinks it back in.

The next noise that breaks against Dick’s lips is a moan, from deep in Jason’s chest. He runs a hand up Dick’s sculpted bicep, stopping to grip at his shoulder, keep him close. Their tongues find each other as Slade starts to set a steady pace, fucking him slowly but firmly with one thick finger.

“Next up,” Slade says, deceptively gentle, “is to find the prostate.”

It doesn’t take him long. Slade curves up his finger, and, like that, Jason’s whole body seizes up, trying to curl in on itself. Dick holds him down by the shoulders, keeps him trapped, swallows up the sounds he makes when the shocks of pleasure course through him. Slade does it again, this time rubbing his finger in little circles, and, _fuck,_ that feels so fucking good.

“There it is,” Slade rumbles, leaning forward on his elbow until he’s looming right above Jason. He’s still got his pants on, just a heavy pair of sweats. They do nothing to hide his throbbing cock, outlining it so perfectly Jason can practically count the fucking veins.

“You want to touch him, don’t you?” Dick whispers, and fuck, when did his mouth make it to his ear?

Jason shudders. “I—”

“It’s okay,” Dick says, pressing kisses to his ear. “You can.”

Jason’s hand is halfway to Slade’s waistband before it’s caught and pinned down. Slade’s there, frowning down at him, so stone-faced that it’s almost startling.

“No,” he says. “You’re not gonna be touching anybody any time soon. That’s lesson three: if this is gonna work, you have to be focused on _yourself._ Not anybody else.”

Jason feels like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing as he tries to process what he just heard. Slade is… turning down a free hand job? Because he wants to focus on… someone else’s pleasure?

Will the real Slade Wilson please stand up?

“Uh— Okay,” is all he actually says, because one of Slade’s fingers is still in his ass. That’s kind of an important thing that’s happening, all things considered.

Focus on himself. He can do that.

Jason settles back down against the pillows, opening himself back up for Slade’s probing. Slade takes his time working one finger in and out, while Dick has moved on to kissing Jason’s neck, nestled up against his side. His body heat further soothes Jason, and it isn’t long before he feels a second finger start to press in alongside the first.

“Watch what I’m doing here,” Slade says, and Dick’s heat briefly leaves his side as he sits up. Jason groans as Slade spreads his fingers, scissoring them open and closed. It’s not ground-breaking stuff, but Dick hums like he’s getting the lesson of the century, and all Jason can do is lie there and take it. “Once you get ‘im nice and open like that, then you can start to go faster.”

Dick “ahhh”s and Jason “ _aaahhh_ ”s as Slade starts to pick up the pace, wrist steady as he spears him on two fingers. It’s not just an in and out motion; it’s more in-up-out, with Slade jerking his fingers up against Jason’s prostate every time they dip inside. In-up-out, in-up-out, until it has Jason’s body moving and twitching along with the rhythm.

Throughout it all, Dick has the nerve to look like a schoolboy taking notes or something, nestled by Slade’s side, watching with clinical interest.

Well… Maybe it’s not entirely clinical. He has to acknowledge the throbbing erection between Dick’s legs, because, well, it’s kind of hard not to. Dick’s ass is the kind of treat you get to see whether he’s clothed or not, but his cock? That’s a rarer sight, and one Jason never fails to eat up with his eyes.

That’s how it should be. Him looking at Dick, not Dick looking at him. He squirms under Dick and Slade’s eyes, panting, legs twitching like they want to close up. But Slade keeps his free hand pressed to the inside of Jason’s thigh, keeping his legs wide open, keeping _him_ wide open. A third finger starts to rub around the rim of his hole, but it doesn’t press in.

“Now,” Slade says, “you don’t _need_ three fingers to do it. Don’t need any more than one, if you do it right. But a little birdy told me Jason here is a bit of a size queen.”

“I am no— _Ohhh._ ”

Slade cuts off Jason’s protests by sliding that third finger in, just as slippery and careful as the first two. He’s still a little tense, but by now, his muscles have relaxed enough that the third one goes in smooth. Slade just stays like that for another few moments, three fingers deep, not moving. Lets Jason’s cock twitch against his stomach, but doesn’t move to touch it.

“See that?” he mumbles to Dick, who’s watching, transfixed. “When his cock moves like that, you stop. You let him calm down before you keep going.”

 _Which one of us are you teaching, old man?_ Jason thinks, but he can’t seem to find the words to say anything out loud.

Dick, on the other hand, never seems to have that problem. He hums. “Right. So, we’re trying to get him to come by… not letting him come.”

“Not _yet,_ ” Slade corrects. “You do it too fast, he’ll be grabbing for his cock and trying to jerk himself off just on instinct. Know what? Now that I’m thinking about it, hold him down, why don’t you? Don’t need him ruining this when we’ve come so far…”

“Wait,” Jason says, “ _what—_ ”

But it’s too late. Dick, mischievous grin splitting his face, snatches up his wrists and pins them down by his head. Jason grunts and wiggles underneath him, but it’s not a real attempt, and they all know it. Dick just puts a little more of his weight behind it in response, nose to nose with Jason, smirking down at him.

“Okay,” he says, once Jason finally stops struggling. “Continue, sensei.”

Jason gets about halfway through an eye roll before Slade starts again, pressing three fingers up into his prostate. He rubs them in a little circle, then eases up for half a second before doing it all over again. It’s less fingerfucking, more up-and-down teasing; up and _rub_ and down, up and _rub_ and down, setting a pattern that has Jason’s body writhing where Dick and Slade have him pinned.

“Oh, _fuuuuck,_ ” he practically gurgles, an embarrassing strand of drool dripping down his chin. Dick leans down and kisses it up, stopping at Jason’s lips to nip at them and growl. “Fff-fuck— Dick—”

“That’s it, Little Wing,” Dick murmurs against his lips. “Let it happen, baby. C’mon, you can do it. I know you can…”

When, Jason wonders, did the tables turn like this? That’s the sort of thing he’d normally be saying to Dick right about now. Right before the inevitable failure, before Dick groans and curses and jerks himself off.

But Dick’s not the one getting fingerfucked now. Dick’s not the one with those thick, torturous, calloused fingers inside him, firmly manipulating his prostate. Dick’s not the one with pressure building inside him, more and more, making his cock twitch and his hips jerk. Every time Jason gets close, every time, Slade senses it and backs off, and Dick kisses away his whimpering cries, licking up his tears.

Jason doesn’t know how the fuck things ended up like this, but he doesn’t want them to _end._

He knows it has to, though. Knows they’re getting close. The only sounds in the room are of Slade’s slick fingers squelching in and out of Jason’s tight ass, mixed with Jason’s breathless cries, Slade’s grunts, and those possessive little growling noises Dick keeps making.

It’s too much. Jason’s body starts jerking up, and Slade’s free hand settles onto his hip, holding him down. He wants to touch his cock, wants to give it those final couple jerks to kick off his orgasm, but he _can’t,_ Dick won’t _let_ him, cruelly keeping his arms trapped no matter how much he thrashes and begs.

“No no, Little Wing,” he’s saying, “no, c’mon, you can do it. You’re almost there, babe. You’re doing it, c’mon, c’mon, like that—”

Jason throws his head back and _sobs,_ and then it’s like the tension inside him snaps. His balls draw in, and his cock gives a violent twitch, spraying out a wet glob of cum that paints his bare, sweaty torso. It happens again, and again, spurting out a mess of cum as Slade’s fingers keep working, keep drawing all of that pleasure out of him so skillfully. He doesn’t stop until Jason whimpers with every twitch of his cock, completely and entirely spent.

By the end of it, Jason’s fucking ears are ringing. He feels like he just got knocked out at a concert, like he was three feet from the speakers before a guitar riff sent him flat on his back. He gasps like a drowning man to try and kickstart his breathing again, vaguely aware that Dick let go of his wrists at some point to curl up by his side instead.

“I think you broke him,” Dick says, ear pressed to Jason’s chest where his heart is throbbing out of his fucking ribcage.

“Eh.” Slade waves a (wet) hand dismissively. “He’ll be fine.”

“No, seriously.” Dick passes a hand in front of Jason’s face a couple times, and Jason, eyes wide, barely even blinks. “Did you cast a fucking spell on him or something? Jay, buddy, hey. Snap out of it.”

“Told you,” Slade grins. “There was a reason he picked me. Now, how about you spread those pretty little legs, birdy? See if we can’t try for round two…”

Slade’s hand passes over Jason’s body. Jason grabs his wrist in a vice grip before he can make it to Dick’s ass. It startles Dick, seeing Jason move that fast right now, but Slade just smirks. Smirks like he knows something, like he can see right through Jason, like he’s been able to do that the whole time he’s been here.

Jason just looks back at him, nose up, defiant. “Thanks for the lesson, but I think we’re good here now, old timer.”

“Alright, alright.” Slade draws his hand back, wiping his lube-slick fingers on the bedspread. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.”

 _We’re not lovebirds_ is what Jason _wants_ to say, but Dick chuckles near his ear, and it takes all the wind out of his sails.

“Don’t be mean, Jay,” he says. “After all, you still gotta try that move out on me…”

Staring up at the ceiling, Jason takes in another long, deep breath.

It’s gonna be a long fucking night.

**Author's Note:**

> find me [other places!](https://linktr.ee/herecomesnaya)


End file.
